


Chemistry for Dummies

by bellinibeignet



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:17:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellinibeignet/pseuds/bellinibeignet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is awakened by nightmares, and Tony refuses to sleep. So, naturally, that leads to a lot of awkward nights of running into one another in the kitchen. Except, tonight Tony actually speaks to Steve, which opens a box that will probably never be closed again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemistry for Dummies

**Author's Note:**

> I ship Steve/Blushing sometimes, so you'll see that again in this fic. Trigger warning for minor conversations about PTSD.

His heart was racing, his mouth was dry, and his body was sweating, his skin cold with a nasty and clammy heat. He could feel, but his mind wasn’t stirring just yet. He wasn’t sure if things were real. If he was awake. If he was transitioning between reality and a dream. He still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of being swallowed, of his chest heaving him out of a nightmare.

And that was the worst – feeling your body, but not your mind. Not having enough control to open your eyes. Being close to pissing your pants from the starkness of the images behind your eyelids and deep in your subconscious.

Then, in a nanosecond, his mind switched on and he opened his eyes to look around his bedroom.

He placed himself. This wasn’t Brooklyn. It was Manhattan. And he was laying in the spare bedroom of the Stark’s New York home. The one that he’d been inhabiting for a little over a month. The one Tony had chosen specifically for him (“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”)

His muscles relaxed as he realized he wasn’t about to crash into an ocean. Instead, he was rather safe in an oversized bed with sheets soft enough for some sort of Egyptian king. And he was surrounded entirely by Stark Industries security.

He let go of the grip he had on the sheets.

The floors of the house were heated, a commodity he’d gone from scoffing at to being appreciative of when he awoke in the middle of the night. He could sneak down to the kitchen for a glass of water without needing to put socks on; his toes got cold easily, which was funny after spending a lifetime under ice.

He decided to make tea instead of just grabbing water or milk tonight. He thought that a new challenge would be worth the distraction; there were a lot of appliances in the kitchen that he was still learning to use (the counter had the world wide web embedded in it, and the coffee machine had only two buttons for its five hundred options). It would be a fantastic transition, figuring out how to work whatever complicated tea machine that Tony invented. Especially after dreaming of being in a plane with new technology everywhere and not knowing how to maneuver it, how to push the right buttons, how to keep from crashing.

He was humbly surprised to find a tea kettle after roaming the cabinets.

There were gems of normalcy around Tony’s mansion: there was a snowglobe on the coffee table in the living room, a hoard of board games that he’d stumbled across in a linen closet, and there were books laying in almost every direction, most with bookmarks and dog ears and tattered edges. Even though most of them were about physics, Steve was glad to find that Tony wasn’t… well, a word that Clint Barton had taught him.

“Tony’s a douchebag,” Clint had said.

Steve hadn’t known what it meant exactly, but as he destroyed another boxing bag, pretending it was Tony’s face, he understood the sentiment.

“What’s so. Goddamn hard. About listening. To me. When I give. An. Order.” Every piece of the sentence was emphasized by a phrase of jabs until the bag fell apart. He stood over it, breathing heavily.

“Don’t work yourself up,” Clint chuckled, tossing him a bottle of water from the cooler he’d been sitting on. “He pisses me off too from time to time. But he’s got heart.”

“With a million pieces of shrapnel trying to pierce it.”

“Gotta give the man some credit. A douchebag, yes. But he’s a self-made hero. Gotta give him respect.” He paused. “In fact, I think if you got the icicle out of your butt-“

“Hey.”

“-and he stopped being an asshole…” He shrugged and started to leave. “…you’d probably get along better than you think.”

Clint had been right. They were at one another’s throats for just a couple of weeks, getting used to one another’s style, and then finally sort of… coming to a peace. Steve sort of hated himself for having judged Stark so harshly, most likely comparing him to Howard and expecting the same sort of man. That was unfair, but he figured an apology wouldn’t have gotten him much more than a shrug from Tony.

So he just observed everything he could from Stark, which mostly included taking in all that he could about the house and the things that Tony had chosen to surround himself.

Which now, Steve discovered, included the simplicity of a tea kettle.

Steve allowed himself to smile as he sat at the counter, watching absentmindedly as the kettle heated the water.

He was interrupted by the sound of Tony’s elevator dinging as it started to rise from the basement, and his eyes shot over to it. He looked down at himself, for one reason or another, then back to the elevator just as it opened to reveal a very tired but determined looking Tony Stark (sans suit).

This hadn’t been the first time he’d run into a Tony with a tattered t-shirt of an old metal band and sweatpants. It seemed like Steve wasn’t the only one having an issue with La Luna.

They’d bumped into each other in middle of the night more times than he could count during Steve’s stay. Tony put the fear of God into Steve, or at least an inane sense of nervousness, and maybe even intimidation. Something like that. Regardless, running into Tony in the middle of the night, or even bumping into him as he turned a corner made him feel sickeningly warm and out of place.

Perhaps it was a bit of guilt for having thought him a pale and evil version of Howard. Tony didn’t deserve that.

But maybe it was something more.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Tony said, stepping into the kitchen.

Steve looked down at the floor as a trail of rapid clicks followed Tony’s steps. It was Marigold, the small terrier that Thor had insisted on needing around (for one reason or another). Tony had been the first to object to having a dog in the house, which came to absolutely no surprise to anyone.

Then, he gathered Thor, Natasha, and surprisingly Steve, into their Range Rover and took them to a pet store.

“We can get a turtle or a bird,” Tony said as they got out of the car. “Not a dog. Not a cat. Or anything else with four legs and a decent mind.”

But when Thor saw the sleeping puppy, he gushed in a way that his Asgardian friends would probably laugh at him about.

They stood around the small cage, and Steve remembered how soft Tony’s eyes looked as he gazed in his direction. It was odd how quickly he felt his throat go dry and how his heart started going crazy (He couldn’t tell if it was beating rapidly of if it had stopped all together.) and how clammy his hands felt. He stared back at Tony because he just didn’t know what else to do.

They stood in silence for a moment longer before Tony sighed and looked at Thor. “If she shits, you clean it.”

Natasha was more excited than anyone had probably ever seen her. Which is to say she didn’t show much emotion either way.

“And I swear, the moment she gets into my lab, I’m sending her to Asgard.”

“This will be great,” Thor said. “Such strange creatures. She will be great for the team.”

Before Steve could say that she probably wouldn’t help them out much in battle, Tony shrugged and took her out of her cage, holding her carelessly in one hand. He looked at her with his nostrils flaring slightly. Not quite disgust.

Then, he walked to Steve and placed her in his hands. “Cap needs a friend anyway.”

How Tony knew everything, nobody seemed to be able to figure out. The puppy was taken by Steve more than anyone at first; he was much less heavy-handed than Thor it seemed. Maybe she sensed that he was a bit of a loner, or was attracted to something like his scent. Regardless, it was Steve who watched after her, fed her, entertained her, and even designed a collar for her.

She was nameless for a few days, as the Avengers couldn’t quite… agree. But what else was new?

“We should name her after my Odin father,” Thor said adamantly.

“Dude, please,” Clint spat harshly, quite safe on the other side of the kitchen table.

“She looks like a Rosie,” Natasha said, her eyes wide and soft as she looked at the puppy asleep on Steve’s broad shoulder.

“Rosie?” Clint scoffed.

Natasha’s eyes instantly turned cold as she looked at her partner. “You want to name her Sparky, so I suggest you shut the hell up.”

“What? Sparky was my old dog’s name.”

Bruce started to stir his coffee. “She needs something a bit more delicate. I mean, look at her.”

Then, Tony, who’d been sitting quietly (right next to Cap), spoke up as he stood to leave, his lunch already eaten as he didn’t waste time during the argument. “Marigold,” he said, wiping his hands on a napkin and tossing it on the table. 

At that moment, the puppy opened her sleepy eyes and yawned, looking up at Tony with a cocked head.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Please mark down another point for another successful decision I’ve made on behalf of the team.”

“Yes sir.”

Having named her must have had a retroactive effect, as her next victim was Tony. Even if she was sitting happily in Steve’s lap, she’d get up to go sniff at Tony, who slowly transitioned from walking right past her to picking her up and taking her around with him.

And soon there was a joke that Steve was her mother and Tony was her father, as she only cared to be around them.

Steve spoke. “Looks like someone found their way into your heart, and then your lab.” At the sound of his voice, the dog realized that Steve was there and she ran around the counter to get to him. He smiled and bent over from his barstool to pick her up.

 “Yeah. She’s a right slut, isn’t she?” Tony smirked.

Steve had come to learn when Tony was being affectionate despite his word choice, and this was one of those times. He loved that damn dog.

“Or she’s taking lessons from Natasha,” Steve added with a smirk, watching Tony go to the stove. The man’s posture relaxed as he deduced that Steve was preparing tea, and Steve let his eyes roam his backside, something that happened more and more often lately with or without him realizing it.

That had been another startling realization that Steve had come to when he was dropped into the 21st century. It was Bruce who explained it to him a few weeks ago when Tony made a shocking remark about how well Steve’s suit fit, making him go scalding hot (with either anger or embarrassment).

“It’s not quite as unacceptable to be interested in the same sex nowadays,” he’d explained. “Everyone is much more free-spirited.”

“So… Tony’s gay?”

Bruce (and Clint, who had stealthily taken a seat in the corner of the living room) chuckled into his hand. “He doesn’t really ascribe to labels,” he smiled.

“Besides that whole ‘genius billionaire playboy philanthropist’ bit,” Clint muttered.

Bruce shrugged. “There have been rumors here or there, but I just think…Tony likes what Tony likes.” He said this with an obviously careful choice of words.

“And I’d say that a nice ass in spandex is probably on that list of things,” Clint laughed. Before Steve could even blush, he was speaking again. “Don’t start to feel too special. He’s always playing grab ass with me.”

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t put off by the openness of the new age. He saw love as love, even though he’d only experienced it once, and for a very short time. Not to say that he thought Tony loved him, or even _liked_ him for that matter. And not that Steve loved him either. He just…

Still, that piece of information seemed to make him curious to the point of heated cheeks and a wild imagination whenever Tony walked around in a sweaty wifebeater with grease stains on his toned arms.

The only person he mentioned his curiosity to was Natasha, who told him that there was nothing to be ashamed of. (She also  made a comment about how she wouldn’t mind seeing that sex tape, but that was neither here nor there.)

 “Late night or early morning?” Steve asked as Tony pulled down two mugs from the cabinets.

“Haven’t decided yet. You?”

“Early morning,” he yawned, glancing at the digital clock on the stovetop. 4:36 a.m. He could take a jog to clear his mind.

“You have a lot of those, yeah?” Tony Stark was making small talk. He knew perfectly well just how often Steve woke up early, and Steve also wouldn’t be surprised if he’d figured out exactly why by now, being a genius and all.

Steve shrugged. “Slept seventy years. Guess my body doesn’t like it anymore.”

Tony chuckled, something that shocked Steve (who would never consider himself the funny guy). As far as Steve could recall, Tony only laughed from his gut with Thor (who didn’t?). There were also the occasions where Tony and Bruce were having a conversation and they chuckled here and there. Otherwise, Tony limited his amusement to small smirks and a handsome smile.

Regardless, Steve had only seemed to get serious and furrowed brows from Tony. That was something that bothered him a bit. Howard had been a lot more smiley, openly friendly to him. He tried his best to keep a vibrant distinction between the Stark men, but it was so goddamn hard when Tony looked like an older (and maybe even softer) version of the Howard he used to know.

But Steve was a bystander to Tony. He didn’t get his attention much outside of a few playful jabs or a comment about Steve’s pants. In all honesty, Steve considered himself a bit of a stranger to the entire Avengers team. He didn’t pretend to convey himself as a talkative alpha-male; he was quiet and rather brooding (not as much as Clint, but who can be?) and he played his role from quiet corners, close enough to observe but far enough so that people weren’t constantly asking “How are you adjusting?”

Tony didn’t ask that, but, of course, that would require them having a normal conversation.

That’s not to make it seem like Tony went out of his way to ignore Steve. That wasn’t true at all, and Steve knew that. When necessary, they would strategize together, but that was something like a rare occasion. Tony and Bruce were the scientists, providing the advice on science and technology, while most of the tactical arrangements were left to Steve and Hawkeye.

When considering Tony in the Iron Man suit, Steve learned early that you didn’t exactly tell Tony what to do. It was easier to suggest a plan and hope that he took it to heart, which he usually did. Occasionally, he’d completely disregard Plan A and skip straight to Plan C (one that he came up with on his own) which heeded good results. If Tony was one thing, it was instinctual, and Steve couldn’t hate him for that.

In fact, now that he thought about it, when it came to being Captain America and Iron Man, they made quite a good team, instinctually pairing up and taking out the enemy without even needing much of a plan. But when they won’t home and they were just Tony and Steve… Tony didn’t seem quite so comfortable.

“You sure it’s just your body?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry?”

“Keeping you awake. Are you sure it’s your body and not your mind?”

Steve half smirked, watching Tony move around the kitchen expertly, pulling out a loaf of bread and some sort of spread to go over it. Soon, he had prepared tea for the both of them, preparing Steve’s just how he liked it without even needing to ask.

“Pumpernickle bread,” he gestured towards the dark loaf on the cutting board. “And a honey butter raspberry jam spread thing I came up with.”

Steve chuckled. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Believe me, I can’t cook when it involves a certain amount of heat,” he chuckled to himself. "And there’s a new model of your shield downstairs that would say I’m not a very good engineer. But I don’t-"

“You’re making me a new shield?”

“-wanna talk about that.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t I wanna talk about it? Or why am I making you a new shield?”

“Both.”

“Because. And I got bored.”

Steve didn't argue with him, and did his best to suppress the heat in his cheeks (blushing?) by lowering his head and cutting himself a piece of bread. He dipped his finger into the jam to taste test, and found it to be every bit of delicious.

He looked up at Tony who was watching him carefully as he sucked the sweetness from the tip of his finger. This time, Steve couldn’t hide his blush, and Tony smirked openly, shaking his head.

Silently, Tony drank his tea (chamomile with a single sugar versus Steve’s green with two) and Steve spread an ample amount of jam on the piece of bread before eating it in three bites.

“Nightmares?” Tony finally asked, quickly clapping his hands together to bring up the touchscreen on the countertop. Steve had tried to do it before and it hadn’t worked. He figured he was either too dense to figure it out, or everything worked specifically for Tony. He settled that it was the latter.

“What makes you think that?”

“You just seem a bit on edge,” he said boredly, swiping through what looked like the early headlines from the New York Times.

Steve smirked.

So, maybe there had been one or two major communications between Steve and Tony that neither of them read too much into for fear of… well, neither of them was sure. Still, Steve had been served a few shockers from Tony that convinced him that Howard and Tony were more alike than the son would like people to realize.

Upon discovering that S.H.I.E.L.D. decided it would be best if Steve’s communication and education on the new millennium was moderated, Tony nearly lost his mind. The man was a hero, not a child (or a science project). He took one of the many laptops he had around the house, slapped a PROPERTY OF: CAPTAIN STEVE ROGERS sticker on the cover, and gave it to Steve one weekend over breakfast.

Steve remembered the shock he felt, and the embarrassment as the rest of the Avengers watched the two having a peaceful exchange for the first time outside of headquarters in the few weeks they’d known each other. Thor was confused, Clint bore his usual unreadable expression, and Nat was staring at the laptop with furrowed brows. Bruce was the only one who seemed to be relaxed, a smirk on his lips as he drank his coffee and watched Tony grab an orange juice from the fridge.

Without looking at Steve, Tony said that he would show him how to use it later, then nodded for Bruce to join him in his lab.

Steve distracted himself for most of the morning, wondering if Tony had been patronizing him, or if the laptop (which he’d kept within arm’s reach all day) was really his, and if he’d actually be taught how to use it.

Then, while watching Clint’s favorite movie with him again (Rambo, which Steve actually quite liked, despite having already seen it twice in the course of a few weeks), Tony came into the living room, plopped down on the couch next to him, and pointed at the computer.

“Boot it up, Cap.”

Tony was patient, and Steve was grateful for it. Tony was a super genius, if not an expert with computers and electronics, so Steve could imagine that he’d be irritated by him being such a novice. But he wasn’t. Once he got the technical stuff down, Tony bookmarked some sites that he thought Steve would appreciate. The New York Times was the one he utilized most. It was a piece of New York that still existed, but, much like everything else, had been digitized, expanded and compressed all the same.

“No matter what anyone tries to convince you to do, never set up a Twitter or Facebook unless I say you can,” Tony said sternly, his eyes on Clint who had been glancing at their tutorial session boredly as he watched his movie. He smirked at what Tony said, although Steve didn’t understand why.

And then Tony left him to it.

And every day, Steve used Google on his laptop (and the smartphone he’d found on his desk with the same PROPERTY OF: sticker on the back) to do research on things he didn’t understand. It felt good to be independent, to be able to stop asking so many questions that he was sure annoyed the others on the team.

He read about himself, about Howard Stark, about all of the wars and presidents that came after him, about art school… Anything and everything he could fill his brain with so that he didn’t feel so lost and inadequate.

“Sometimes it’s the crash,” Steve said, looking down at his mug of tea. “The dreams – nightmares, I mean. Sometimes it’s the drowning. Sometimes it’s standing in the middle of a busy street screaming and begging for help and nobody stops to say a word.”

“I’m pretty sure that last one is the reality for every New Yorker,” Tony said lightly, but his attention was on Steve and not the news, which was a good thing. “Fury told me you may suffer from-“

“PTSD. Yeah. I know.” He was irritated by the term. He couldn’t imagine why it needed such a specific name. He thought if a person went through any type of trauma and it didn’t haunt them afterwards, they were the one with the disorder.

“Don’t worry. He says the same thing about me.” He said it with disinterest, but Steve didn’t buy his tone.

“I overheard Ms. Potts say something along the same lines when speaking with Colonel Fury. Wondering about whether you were sleeping well.”

Tony smirked, knowing full well that Steve had probably read his file front to back, but he said nothing of it. “You’d think it was high school with how many people will talk behind your back.”

“Well, we’re all under one roof at any given moment. Have to expect it, right?”

Tony was quiet as Marigold left Steve’s lap to come over to him. He picked her up and she curled into his lap.

Steve could swear a look of relaxation swept Tony’s face. For a moment, he wondered if Tony would have a child or two one day. It sure would be a shame for the Stark line to just stop.

“You don’t realize that you can’t sleep when you simply choose not to,” Tony shrugged, drinking.

“But that’s not healthy.”

Tony laughed. “I have a magnet in my chest that keeps me from dying. I don’t think lack of sleep is going to ruin me.”

Steve shook his head. “You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

“And you knew my dad? Damn…” He gave a half smile before lifting Marigold from his lap and bringing her to his face. He nuzzled his cheek against her nose. “You’ve put me in a good mood, Capt. Come on.”

Steve nearly shot out of his seat to follow Tony to his lab. He’d been in the house for two months and had yet to set foot inside. Of course, Steve was more of a intellect than a genius, so he rathered museums and libraries over science labs (especially since the last one he’d been in hadn’t necessarily ended well, despite his pristine condition), but being in Tony’s space was something he was anxious for. For some reason.

Steve couldn’t decide if the lab was clean or a mess. So many gadgets humming, scrap pieces here and there on the shiny floor, and JARVIS was up and running, greeting him personally as he came in.

“I’m surprised it has taken Mr. Stark so long to invite you down. He talks-“

“Mute.”

Steve looked from JARVIS’s set-up to Tony, who was settling Marigold into a dog bed, which was the ultimate punch in the gut. Stark really had become attached to that dog.

As if there was an energy calling out, Steve turned his attention to Tony's workstation, and there lay a blatantly obvious skeleton of the Captain America shield. His strong jaw fell open in disbelief. Before he could even say anything, Tony was rummaging through some drawings and explaining it to him.

“It’s going to be about a fourth of an inch wider in diameter than the one you have now, but will weigh just about the same. I’m using a lighter but stronger material, and adding on some features. I wanted the weight to stay the same so that it feels the same.”

Steve sat in the empty rollaway chair that was next to Tony. If he wasn’t mistaken, he felt Tony go a little tense as he paused midsentence. This would be one of the few times that they were close enough to touch. In fact, they  _were_  touching, Steve’s shoulder brushing lightly against Tony’s arm every time he moved to point at something on the schematic.

Steve just listened and watched, pretending not to notice, perfectly engaged in the beginnings of another shield, a new shield build by the hands of another Stark, another Stark whom he was quickly beginning to consider a friend. Or something like that.

“I’m adding a GPS system that connects to JARVIS and the suit – GPS, that’s Global Positioning System, from the seventies – and it’s completely unnoticeable, so it shouldn’t be a distraction. Of course, this is assuming you and the shield aren’t separated if you ever get…lost.”

Steve smiled to himself. He couldn’t help it. Goddammit.

“I’m also tinkering with the shape of it. I’m rebuilding it so that it can retract and bend a bit, like…uh, paneling?” Steve nodded, although he only slightly understood. He just followed Tony’s hands as they made a sort of waving motion. “I know you like to throw the thing. I’m working on shaping it so that there is a boomerang effect nearly every time you throw it. No more throwing your shoulder out to get it to come back to you.”

“Really?”

Tony nodded. “That’s the part that is tripping me up. Rebuilding this thing so that it feels exactly the same for you is… a task.” He scratched at his face.

“Is that all?”

A smirk spread to Tony’s lips. “Aren’t you fastidious?”

Steve blushed. “Sorry. This is just… kind of cool. That you’re doing this for me. It’s… nice of you.”

Tony smirked. “I can be nice,” he said, sitting the schematics down and leaning a hand on the table, looking at Steve carefully, almost as if he was challenging him to make a sarcastic comment. But Steve said nothing, just looked Tony right into his dark eyes, lips pursed enough to bring out the strength of his jaw.

Finally, Tony shrugged. “Like I said. I got bored.” He nodded for Steve to follow him to the wall of Iron Man suits, old and prototype. One was pulled out, still unpainted and with a few pieces missing. The man really didn’t stop working.

“There’s one more thing I have been working on,” he chuckled to himself. “Hulk can smash his way out of a sticky situation. Clint and Nat are stealthy and almost impossible to catch. I can fly. Thor can do all of that.”

“Thanks for pointing that out,” Steve said quietly, but he knew what Tony meant.

Just a week ago, Steve was ambushed and Tony had been the one to zoom in and grab him, rushing him off to safety. Natasha mentioned to Steve that Tony had been rather on edge after that day.

“He nearly chewed Clint’s head off just for looking at him the wrong way,” she told him. “The one day you were under hospital surveillance, nobody saw him all day. You ask me? I think he was at S.H.I.E.L.D. keeping an eye out on you. Just to make sure you were okay.”

“I never saw him.”

“Of course you didn’t. Why in the world would Tony show any sense of softness about anyone? With the exception of Marigold, of course.”

Apparently, Tony was more concerned than he liked to let on.

“I’m saying, when it comes down to it, getting you out of a tight spot might be… a tight spot.” He picked up a silver plate that was about slightly less than the thickness of the shield and slender by the width. He held it out for Steve to take, then went to the suit that he had out on a moving rack. “Say you’re on the ground and you are surrounded. Can’t get out. Yadda yadda. On command, I can fly in and your shield will magnetize itself to the back of the suit.”

He simply said ‘Get Steve’ and the small box in Steve’s hands jutted out two prongs at the same time as a rectangular opening in the back of the suit opened. Steve held the box out and suddenly it was sucked into the suit with a strong magnetic pull. The box didn’t seem big enough to hold very strong, but even with Steve’s strength, he couldn’t get it to budge.

“Yeah. You won’t be going anywhere once I get ahold of you,” Tony smiled, seeming proud of himself.

“And that’s going on the shield?”

“That’s just a prototype, a testing object, but yes. I’m hoping that the star on your shield will lift out a bit and connect into the suit. I’ll have to redesign the suit, of course. But that’s not a big deal. It’ll be perfect.”

They stood in silence, Steve looking at the magnetic box connected to the Iron Man suit’s back, and Tony watched him carefully.

“Maybe I should’ve asked permission. But I’m not very good at boundaries.”

“Yes. Ms. Potts told me that you usually don’t mean harm and not to be so hard on you.”

“I’m sure she said that for your benefit more than mine.”

“Why do you say that?”

Tony shrugged, and Steve could swear the man’s eyes dropped to his mouth. It made him feel uncomfortably good.

“Well, I can’t wait to see the final product,” Steve said finally, breaking silence.

“Hopefully I can get it done soon so you can practice with it. Test the magnet and whatnot.”

Testing the magnet would probably entail a lot of Tony swooping down and rescuing Steve, scooping him onto his back and whisking him away. Goddammit.

“I make you uncomfortable, don’t I?” Tony asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Steve shook his head before he could even think to answer honestly. Uncomfortable was such a harsh word for what Tony made him feel. Sure, when Tony entered a room, Steve avoided looking at his eyes, and even shifted his weight in his seat so that he didn’t feel so stiff. And he blushed whenever he got individual attention from him, although it was a rarity.

It wasn’t discomfort. It was a monster of unexplored curiosity (he was still a bit bashful to consider it lust) seating itself deep in his stomach. It was his imagination acting out strange films in his mind. It was a shy desire that he’d only ever felt once before, some seventy years before.

He convinced himself that it would be impossible not to want Tony, and that he wasn’t to blame. Then, he recalled that Bruce spent quite a lot of time with Tony and didn’t seem to be pining for him as far as he could tell.

Shit. One thing didn’t have to do with another. This was about Steve’s own want to be satiated by the playboy billionaire. He quickly wondered what that said about him. Not the part about wanting Tony, but to have the insane inkling that he even had a chance.

“I think I’m going to take a jog before we have to head to S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Steve said, finally breaking his eyes from the Iron Man suit and looking at Tony.

“Gotta keep that figure, yeah?”

Steve laughed nervously. “Yeah.” He took one glance around the lab then headed for the elevator. As the doors opened, he turned to look at Tony again, who seemed to have been watching him walk away. “Uh, and thanks for everything, you know. The computer. And the new shield. And letting me –“

“Steve.”

“Yes?”

“Go jog. And try not to get kidnapped.”

Running was the ultimate reminder that, even though his body was not the one he’d lived with for a majority of his (conscious) life, his mind was still the same. He still overthought things. He still replayed images of being beaten up in alleys, of watching his friends die. Physical ailments healed quickly, but the mental ones were ever-provoking.

He made it back to the mansion just as the sun had risen high enough for the world to start waking itself up. As he went into the kitchen for water, he ran into Thor who congratulated him on his morning exercise and excess sweat, which Steve found odd but charming. Thor was intrigued by the idea of exercise that Nat and Clint took rather seriously, as well as all of the workout plans and television shows about getting into shape.

Steve may find it hilarious too if he were a naturally muscular and massive god, but that is neither here nor there.

After taking a long and relaxing shower, he changed into a pair of S.H.I.E.L.D. issued basketball shorts and logged onto his computer to get some reading done. He’d been exploring a lot about art schools recently (Tony had bookmarked a website about choosing the right colleges for your personality type). He wondered if he ever quit being an Avenger if he’d try going to school.

There was a knock on the door, and before he could think to grab a shirt to put on, it was opening and Tony had come in.

“I was wondering if… oh.”

Steve sighed, standing up and rubbing his hands together nervously as Tony’s eyes adjusted over him. Steve suddenly wished he’d put on underwear at the very least. Mesh shorts right out of the shower just weren’t… good.

“I’m sorry, I just came by to… should I leave?” He was smiling.

Before Steve could even consider a good response (“Uh, yeah. Let me just get some clothes that don’t make me look like a piece of meat, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”) he quickly replied “No, no, no,” both intrigued and intimidated by Tony being in his room.

“Oh, well, I just…” Tony closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “I’m shit with words,” he said after a long silence. “You probably know that though.”

“I think you’re fine.”

Tony half laughed, pushing himself off of the door. He looked around the room, and if it was possible, Steve felt more nervous. This was his space, but at a glance, he seemed like the most boring anal being on the planet. For all intents and purposes, it still looked like a guest room.

Minus the few drawings and paintings he’d hung up.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to make a mess every once in a while,” Tony joked, as if reading his mind.

Steve blushed. “Did you, uh, need something from me?”

“Yes, yes. Sorry. I… well, just that. I came to…apologize for how I’ve been acting towards you.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “You’re kidding, right?”

Tony laughed. “You know, most people would faint at the sound of me apologizing, and you’re taking it as a joke.”

“You just… You haven’t acted any way that warrants apology.”

“There you go seeing the best in me and shit.”

“It’s, uh, not that hard, I guess…”

Steve was confused, but he did his best not to let that on. It was hard to think clearly when he had a fumbling apologizing beautiful narcissist standing in front of him. It was hard to do anything around Tony, now that he’d come to think about it. He thought that he’d managed fine before, fiending normalcy around the man, pretending he didn’t even notice him.

But now he was half naked in front of the man who’d made it rather clear of his approval of Steve’s body… That made a massive difference.

“I could, you know… talk to you more,” Tony shrugged, looking at the floor. “Instead of treating you like a ghost – And before you say anything, I see the pouty look you get when I don’t give you the same smile and hello I give to Thor and Bruce and –“

“I don’t pout.”

“Oh, but you do, and it’s adorable.”

Steve bit down on the inside of his jaw. “You were apologizing, but now you’re just trying to embarrass me.”

“No, not at all, I… Shit, Cap.” Tony made his way across the room until they were a little less than a foot apart. “Look, I guess what I’m trying to say is that-“

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Goddammit,” Tony cursed under his breath before walking over to Steve’s dresser in the corner of the room. He didn’t seem to want whoever was on the other side of the door to be speculative.

Steve walked slowly to the dresser as well, opening it to grab a t-shirt. He was painfully aware of Tony’s eyes as he put it on.

It was Bruce at the door.

“I got that book I was telling you about,” he said, waving it for Steve to take. “Don’t be put off by the title. I promise it’s great for- Oh. Hey, Stark.”

Tony was leaning against the desk now, arms folded across his chest, observing the two. Steve said ‘thank you’ quietly before tossing the book on the bed.

“We’re getting geared to go to lunch,” Bruce said after an awkward silence. “Coulson is treating all of us before we head to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“How nice?” Tony smirked, obviously uninterested. The two shared a knowing look, and Steve noticed it.

“Just… don’t be too long. Thor’s hungry.”

When they were left alone again, Tony went to the bed to grab the book. A curious smile spilled onto his lips as he read the title, and Steve’s cheeks went warm. “Chemistry for Dummies.” He laughed and tossed the book back on the bed. After a lingering glance on the sheets, he looked over at Steve, rubbing at his goatee, still grinning. “What the hell are you reading that for, Rogers?”

Steve huffed. “I figured… I don’t know. Maybe if I knew some stuff, I would actually have something to say to you.”

“I have Bruce for that.”

Steve’s chest felt like it’d been punched. He’d done well with deciphering when Tony was being truthful or facetious, and this time he was being very honest – he had no desire to talk about science with Steve. Of course not. Why would he?

“You’re pouting.”

“Look, I should get ready to go. I accept your…apology, or whatev-“

Before Steve could make his way to his closet, Tony grabbed at his wrist and had pulled him against his chest. However, he’d underestimated Steve’s weight, which sent them toppling onto the bed as a result.

Tony pushed a lock of Steve’s wet hair away from his forehead. “I don’t need you to be a scientist in order for me to talk to you,” he said lowly. “I just needed to find the balls – the confidence – to figure out what to say and how to say it.”

Steve was rather taken off guard, laying there with one of Tony’s hands tucked under his ribs, the other now stroking his cheek.

“I’m sorry for not being the bigger man and telling you that I have a weird sense of wanting to protect you, and be next to you, and talk to you all of the time, and it kind of scares the shit out of me.” Tony finally took a deep breath. “That’s what I came here to say…” he sighed.

“Pro-protect me?” Steve asked, unsure of what else to say. All he knew was that he was lying in bed, tangled in Tony Stark, and it made the monster in his belly squirm for more. More of what, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he could imagine…

“Why else would I place your bedroom right across from mine?” Tony chuckled. “And you think that we run into each other in the middle of the night just by mere coincidence? I make sure that JARVIS tells me when you’re roaming at witch’s hour.”

“Why?” Steve mustered to ask.

“So you don’t have to be alone,” Tony whispered before bringing himself to the brink of Steve’s lips, just close enough so that all Steve had to do was move forward half an inch to accept the… kiss?

Yes, Tony was there, waiting to kiss him, and Steve had five seconds to decide, four seconds to stop his heart from jumping out of his chest, three seconds to wonder if it would be good or not, two seconds to hope that, whatever the outcome, he’d get to do it again, and one second to show Tony that he wanted him, too.

They were chaste for a very long time, merely leaning into one another, enjoying very tiny movements as their lips brushed. Then Steve took Tony by surprise when he sucked innocently on his bottom lip (it may have been an accident). Tony took advantage, pushing the kiss into small darts of tongue, which also lead to lots of grabbing tightly at one another.

Finally Tony took control, stopping Steve’s hands from getting too curious. He wasn’t going to be responsible for deflowering the beloved Captain America without courting him properly.

“Was that… okay?” Steve asked once Tony pulled away.

Tony grinned. “I was going to say you’re sweeter than apple pie, but that would probably give you a permanent blush. Can’t have the team staring at you when we go downstairs together. Even though, I’ve already told them exactly how I feel about you.”

Steve blushed anyway.

 


End file.
